Meeting the Skye Troll
Trip Start
May 27, 2011
1
4
14
Trip End
Jun 05, 2011
Skye is peaky and pointy and lumpy, with diabolical weather. The rain came in horizontally, obscuring all the peaky, pointy bits in clag. If the peaks were jagged teeth in a troll's mouth, then the troll's breath was the driving clag and the boggy glen, his tongue. The analogy is complete when, if the rain stops for a moment, you are rapidly eaten alive by the digestive enzymes of the Skye Troll: midges. The girls called the biting black flies "midgets", which must have upset anyone with height deficiency, although, to be fair, we were all dwarfed by the Cuillin Mountains.
One by one, the BMC members togged up and left for the hills, until there was only us left. We joined up with Emma and Adam and went over to Portree, where there was a small soft play area. It was more suited to Adam's age (i.e. 3) than the girls (already 8), but it kept them amused for a while. There was a window of blue sky for a minute or two, but the Gods of Clag and Driving Rain soon put an end to it. We sat in a steamed up car and ate sandwiches.
One by one, the BMC members togged up and left for the hills, until there was only us left. We joined up with Emma and Adam and went over to Portree, where there was a small soft play area. It was more suited to Adam's age (i.e. 3) than the girls (already 8), but it kept them amused for a while. There was a window of blue sky for a minute or two, but the Gods of Clag and Driving Rain soon put an end to it. We sat in a steamed up car and ate sandwiches.


